


The Boy

by Seanathan703



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Other, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanathan703/pseuds/Seanathan703
Summary: A young man makes a friend and wants to make sure his friend feels the same way about him





	

I met him in middle school. Well, I was in middle school. He was in elementary. He was homeschooled, though. Which tells me how lucky I must be to have met him at all. It was easy to tell that he was more mature than all the kids in my class, irregardless of the age gap. He was relaxed and reserved, but when he smiled, it was the purest smile I had ever seen. I started to think I was gay. Wouldn’t be much of a surprise nowadays, but back then it was a shocking thought. I mean, I am in a committed relationship with my gal. She doesn’t know it yet, but it’s only a matter of time, I’m sure. I can tell that I drive her crazy. Some days I love her more than I do others. Some days I can’t wait to see her, some days I sort of want to kill her. But that’s neither here nor there.

Anyway, I wondered if I was, in fact, gay. I had never looked at another boy like I looked at him. There was just something about him. Like a love at first sight. Not a romantic love, I have learned, but a pure, metaphysical, beautiful love. Something that makes a man question his sanity. The feeling that your soul is entwined with that of another, but it’s more than a man can feel for his wife. I felt connected to this boy in a way no one ever has, and no one ever will. The only idea I can compare it to is the love of God. My connection to this boy was deeper than that. The preacher would talk about how much that big man in the sky loved all of us. I never really bought into the “God” thing. I thought the preacher must be joking, talking about love in this city. I just followed the boy to his church every Sunday for a pretty long time, maybe three or four years. I would sit three rows behind him. I named the place where I sat Pepé. Pepé the pew. I had a hard time not laughing about that whenever I sat down. It wasn’t as funny as when some other kid brought a whoopee cushion to church, but I wasn’t about to do that, for fear of getting kicked out and away from my friend. So I made do with my inside joke to myself. But I digress. For your reference, reader, imagine how big people say God’s love is. My connection to this boy always put that love to shame, and still does. And while he can’t admit it with words, his actions show that he feels it too. We are an incredible duo, he and I.

That first time I met him was during my middle school career day. They gave it some dumb name that I can’t remember. I just know I could have come up with something more clever. Anyway, all us kids were put in our school gym. We would walk in small groups around the gym to different booths, and learn about all these jobs. The boy came with his dad, who was some kind of doctor or something. A real important top banana type guy. Real charming. Definitely a hereditary trait. The boy’s dad was real funny. He talked about what his job was like, and while he was a “serious business” kind of guy, he still had a sense of humor, which I definitely admired. And then it happened. One of the defining moments of my life. Going on to the next booth, one of my classmates, Jonny, thought it would be funny to walk past me, eyes forward until the last second. He jumped at me and screamed “Ahhhhh!!!!” and ran away. Looking back on that, it was hilarious. I wonder what happened to Jonny. Anyway, young me just about had a heart attack. I dropped my notebook. And then my new best friend, the doctor’s son, tried to catch it. There was no reason to catch it. It was just a notebook. But he reacted immediately, just trying to help me. Did he catch it? No. He was rather clumsy, and also a little younger than me, of course. But then he bent over and picked it up. He hands it to me and says, “Sorry. I tried.” I thanked him and went on my way. On top of having one of those easy-to-trust faces, with a wide forehead, meaning he was definitely a smart guy, he also cared about me. The kid had no idea who I was, but he took it upon himself to hand me my notebook. I knew that’s the kind of friend I wanted. I saw our future together in my head, walking to that next booth in the gym. We would be best friends. Us against the world. Like Inspector Gadget and the word “go,” or vanilla ice cream and some cold water, or Holmes and Watson.

Of course, like son, like father. That doctor must have been taking some cues from his son, because they both stayed at my school once the day was over to help clean up the gym. So then I followed them home. I wasn’t letting this kid get away. I watched what he did through the windows, from whatever angle I could get to. Usually one would be open, but I never went inside. Just listened. I had to have him as a friend. He lived in a nice house with his mom and dad and grandfather. The granddad talked kind of funny, and he was always dressed up really nicely, while the boy and his parents would just wear whatever around their house. Watching them interact, I figured out that the boy’s granddad was probably a little senile and didn’t really know who or where he was, so the family would just let him wash their clothes and make them food and stuff. I couldn’t blame them, I would do the same thing if someone volunteered to do chores for me. They would ask him to sit down with them a lot, but that poor old fart usually wanted to go eat by himself. The love was there, though, and I knew I wanted to be the boy’s friend even more. A guy from a nice family, but not a perfect family either. They clearly had some troubles, as everyone does, that they had learned to deal with, and they didn’t always get along, but from what I saw, hiding outside their home, they sure did get along most of the time, and you just can’t go wrong having a friend in this kind of family.

So, soon after following the boy and his father back to their house, I started following them to church. Every Sunday, the boy, his parents, and his granddad sat and listened to the preacher, and I sat on Pepé and watched them listen. Making friends has always been difficult for me. I wanted to know everything about my new friend, before officially introducing myself to him. That way, I knew I could be whatever he was looking for in a friend. I would practice hypothetical conversations that I might have with him. I would practice jokes I could tell him to break the ice. I love jokes. I love comedy. I love the joy it brings people. It’s how I make connections. I started following the boy everywhere. I was not going to let him go. He was my truest friend. He just didn’t know.

Around the time I started high school, I had gone on a lot of outings with him. We had started going to the movies a lot. Several openings of blockbuster films. All of them were awesome. He had great taste in movies. The best comedies, the best action movies. Once we went to see a showing of some classic Three Stooges and Marx Brothers. That was my favorite. As always, he would sit and watch the movie, and I would sit three rows behind him. It was so much fun. There were only a couple movies we went to see after that, though. I screwed up the last one we went to see. I didn’t have any money to get into the theater, so I just snuck in with the crowd. It was pretty easy. There was a man who noticed my problem, and just told me to stand next to him while he went inside. Once inside, I looked around real quick and found my friend and followed him into his theater. I went to my standard three rows behind him, but there was only one seat left. Luckily, the man who helped me get in was sitting next to that one. “Can I sit here?” I asked sheepishly.

“Sure,” he replied.  
“Thanks, Mister,” I sighed in relief.  
“Joe.”  
“Thanks, Mister Joe.”  
“No problem, Kid.” Mr. Joe looked around the theater quizzically before finally relaxing and watching the screen. I wondered if Joe was there with a friend, just like me.

When the movie ended, I walked outside, and looked around for my friend. His granddad was usually outside with the car ready after a movie, and I didn’t see him. I looked back at the building, and saw my friend with his parents at the box office, and they went back inside to the same movie that we had just seen. I guess they really liked it or something. I should have tried to get back in with them, but I was really tired, and decided to go home and go to bed.

I just stopped getting to see him. I had been going to church and movies and even lunch with him for a few years, and then it just stopped. He stopped ever leaving his house. I would go to his house and try to look inside, but all the windows and curtains were closed every time. But I knew he would come out of there eventually. He came out to go to church with his granddad on Easter. He didn’t seem like he wanted to go. I was around fourteen, and I figure he was around nine or ten. I knew I thought church was insanely boring every time I went, so I could only imagine what a younger guy might think about it.  
That was the last time I ever saw him out and about until more recently. As we both got older, I would catch glimpses of him in his house. He would just read all day. His parents and granddad never bothered him while he was doing that. He was very focused, clearly using that cleverness that I had always known that he possessed. He would wake up, study, exercise some, and go to bed. The next day, he would repeat. Some days, he didn’t even sleep. He would just lock the doors to the room and continue his work all night. I admired his diligence. I decided that his friendship was worth the wait for him to resurface. We are connected, after all.

As I write this, I actually haven’t seen him in person for several years. Until just two weeks ago. We had all started thinking he was dead. He had been gone forever. I would go to his house, and the lights were on, but nobody seemed to be home, except when his aging granddad would come out to go eat or something. There was a period of about a year when I am sure that house was completely empty. Nobody in there at all.

But not too long ago, I saw him. He was walking down the street, with a girl on each arm. He’s using that charm from his dad rather nicely. He’s acting a little snobby now, but I can’t blame him. Seems like he came into some money. But I know something no one else does. Every night, my friend goes home to that house, and a couple hours later, he comes back out dressed in a hilarious costume. His house is kind of away from everything else in town, so nobody sees him. Except me.

I have chased him on foot, and I’ve seen what he does. I’ve seen what my friend does at night.

I have decided to finally make my move. Now, he and I share a secret. We are the only ones who know. That makes us the best of friends. We have an undeniable bond now. All I have to do is get his attention. Cause a commotion. And I know just how to do it.

I’m on my way to the chemical processing plant.  
I’m about to make a friend. I have my jokes planned perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> This story does, of course, require some suspension of canon to work, I know. Thanks for reading.


End file.
